Thomas got home at six and fell asleep on his bed. It didn't matter that he'd missed dinner, working all day with food made him feel like retching at ...he sight of tea anyway. He woke at eight and checked his email, grabbed a long drink and a film and spent the rest of the evening watching Fight Club.Monday morning dawned depressingly sunny and bright and college loomed in the future like a great black storm cloud. Thomas found himself longing for a blast of cold weather just so he had an excuse. Her breasts were quite hefty, like twin beds but her belly and ass were the ones fighting for dominance, both covering her probably massive thighs to such a degree that Jamie could see them, but not enough to gauge their size in any meaningful way. Her hair is braided and pulled back into a knot, giving anyone who looked at her to focus on her big brown eyes.As spread out as they were, they left plenty of room for the much smaller white woman who just waddled in, their fat still touching all. "Yer not havin' a kitten," the mother said firmly. "Go sleep," she barked and Margaret got up to take the objectionable infant back to her bed."But I wan' a kitten," Moira said firmly as she was escorted up the stairs.Tony sat opposite the Detective in the London interview room and blinked. "I said prove it."The Detective smiled and looked up at the ceiling. "We got you for the Annabel Sprott murder and the George Baynes attempted murder," he said matter-of-factly. "We'll get you on more."Tony. It was exactly what I needed to hear. It was his way of telling me, with his sly and dry sense of humor, that he was OK with it – as long as I kept him fed. I started to chuckle softly, shaking my head. "You little shit, how do you do that?" I got up and gave him a deep hug. I murmured, "No crew-cuts, tattoos, or work boots, I promise. That's not my style. And thank you, honey. I knew there was a reason I love you." Awww Mom, don't get all mooshy on me. Just don't stop being Mom."He didn't talk.
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